


Slow Hands

by erinn_bedford



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hetty's a cockblock, Nell gets Eric alone and things ensue, lots of kisses, nerds being nerds, the return of Eric Beale kitchen destroyer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 06:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11202153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erinn_bedford/pseuds/erinn_bedford
Summary: "Beale." He lifts his head and looks at her, and she can see the hickey forming on his neck, and it sends a whole new wave of heat through her body. "Move your hands."





	Slow Hands

“So I know we have a Dave and Busters gift card, but I thought this would be more fun.” Eric deposits a bag of groceries on the kitchen island and drops his keys in the dish.

Nell sits up from her spot on the couch and smiles at her boyfriend. “Well, hello to you too.”

“I know, I’m like 2 hours early,” he says, dropping a kiss to her forehead before making his way back to the kitchen. “But I was like, what if we cook tonight instead.”

“You can’t cook.” She’s still in her pajama’s, which consist of a pair of shorts and one his shirts that she stole from him, because it’s a Saturday, and she hadn’t planned on getting ready for the day until Eric was supposed to pick her up.

“No. That’s why I came here.” He moves around her kitchen with ease, grabbing pans and spoons and other things, and they’ve only been dating for 3 weeks, but they’ve been doing stuff like this for so long, that Nell is hit with a sense of rightness.

“Hey,” She stops him as he passes her for the third time, pressing her hand to his chest.

He smiles at her, his hands occupied by a spoon and a salt shaker. She needs stand on her tip toes to reach his face, and she moves her hand to the collar of his shirt to can steady herself, but she can kiss him because she wants too.

It’s a new part of their relationship, the whole kissing each other thing, and honestly, it’s her favorite new thing about Eric Beale. She likes the way she can take his shirts because she wants too and the way he casually puts his arm around her shoulders when they wait on line for anything, but the kissing at any time she wants is the best part.

They are both smiling when their lips meet, so it’s more of a face mush than an actual kiss, but then she hears the salt shaker drop, his hand curves around her waist, and it becomes an actual kiss. He pulls her so close that if she wasn’t holding on to him she would lose her balance.

“Hey yourself,” he says when she pulls back. She’s almost too flustered to think about anything other than his hand on the small of her back, but then he’s gone, back to rummaging around her kitchen, staring the burner and pulling whatever he got out of his reusable Captain America bags.

“What are we making?” She steadies herself on the counter, not trusting her legs to stand by themselves.

“Ragu.”

“Oh my god, did you copy that recipe off that guy’s hard drive.”

He stops moving on the other side of the island, way too far away in her opinion.

“I might have.” He says.

Nell pops one of the cherry tomatoes in her mouth and leans across the counter. “And…”

“I might have also already tried to make it at home to surprise you. And I might have failed.”

She reaches out and slides the pasta away from his hands and to her side of the counter. “You can chop the vegetables.”

“Good plan.”

Despite his inability even boil water, Eric’s pretty good at chopping vegetables. They almost finish the food when she decides it’s safe to leave him watching the pot so she can go and change. She leaves her tights off, thinking there’s no point in putting them on if they aren’t leaving her apartment, and by the time she gets back out to the kitchen, Eric has the food plated and the table set.

xXx

She swings her leg over his body and drops herself into his lap.

They had officially been dating for 3 weeks, and it’s the first time they are actually alone together, not at work or at the movies or out to eat, and Nell wants to figure out more new and exciting things about Eric Beale.

“Hiya.” He says, his hand coming up to her waist, holding her steady. It’s a simple movement, but it sends a shiver down her spine.

“We’ve said hello like 15 times today.” She says. She made the move to sit on his lap, but she’s not sure she’s prepared to start the next step by herself.

“I like saying hello.”

She’s not wearing her tights, so she can feel the skin of his knees brushing against hers where her skirt ends.

“Maybe you should-” She wants to say his mouth could be used for other things, but she can’t force the words out of her mouth.

“Maybe I should what?”

There are times when Eric Beale is total shit as teasing, but then there are times when he can flirt like it’s nobody’s business, and her brain cannot physically handle it at the moment.

She does the next best thing. His button down is gone before their lips even touch, his hands connect with her spine through her dress and she’s pretty sure she’s going to die. Its clumsy, the kiss, more teeth and noses than perfectly lined up lips and in synced open mouths. It’s new and it’s interesting and it makes her heart ache and her head spin and his hands have not moved off her waist. She’s getting impatient.

Nell pulls back, dragging his lower lip with her, even if it’s just to stay connected with him for a moment longer. 

“Move your hands.” She all but growls at him, before attaching her lips to his throat.

“Umm-” his heart is beating so fast she can feel it on her cheek, but his hands have still not moved.

“Beale.”

She hears his breathe catch in his throat, and then his hand slides over her ribs and up to her hair.

It’s small, but it’s something, so she takes it, letting he fingers dig into his scalp so she can get a better grip on him.

Somehow, between her sucking on his neck and moving her way up his throat, she shifts, and oh, she thinks, that’s something that she had thought about a few times, but never really thought about concretely.

He stops moving completely. The one hand that was on her rib stills, and she’s almost positive that he stops breathing.

So, she does the only thing her brain can really think to do.

She does it again.

His hands tighten around her waist, and he groans. It’s quiet, almost not there, but she wants to hear it again and again and again.

She goes to do it again, but he physically moves her away, pressing his head onto her shoulder.

“Nell.” It’s the first time he’s said her name since dinner, and it feels like it’s the first time.

“Eric.” She runs her nails down his scalp and he swallows, and suddenly, she wants to learn every new thing about the man in front of her.

He doesn’t say anything.

“Do you want to stop?”

“Stop? No, no, no, no, no. I just need a minute.”

“Okay.” She lets herself breath, running her hands back and forth through his hair. His breathing syncs with hers, and his thumbs are rubbing small circles on the skin of her thighs. She’s trying to relax, to stop thinking about what she was just attempting to do, but her skin burns and her body aches and she _wants_.

“Beale.”

He lifts his head and looks at her, and she can see the hickey forming on his neck, and it sends a whole new wave of heat through her body. 

“Move your hands.”

His eyes darken by the slightest degree, and slowly, ever so slowly, his hands slide up her legs, and Nell is almost certain she is going to combust.

His lips just taste hers, and then he’s the one kissing down her throat, his hand skimming past the edge of her skirt. His fingers stutter over lace, and she can’t stop the laugh bubbling up her chest. He pulls her forward, closer than she was before, closer to him.

Nell very rarely wants. She tells herself she’s practical. She knows her limits, knows what she needs and what she can have. But she wants this. She wants to know every part of Eric; she wants to know how long it would take to get him out of his shirt if she starts sliding her hands up his stomach. She wants to know what it takes to get him to moan again. She wants so much that it’s starting to consume her.

“Eric.” She pushes him back slightly, and he looks up her, mouth slightly open, lips quirked in a smile.

“You know you only call me Eric when something important is going to happen.” His hands have stalled under her skirt, and she almost regrets stopping him.

“It’s not really that important.” She presses her lips to his nose, because she can, because she wants too, and his smiles grows. “I lo-”

Her phone sings, cutting her off. She falls forward, closer to him, the unspoken words still on her lips.

“Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.” His hands are still lost under her dress. The last thing she wants to do is answer the phone.

“What do you think it is?”

“Hetty’s ringtone.”

She sighs, answering his question as she leans across the couch to grab her phone.

“Hello?”

“Miss. Jones. We have a case.” Hetty says. Nell grabs Eric’s arm so she can see his watch. It’s only 11:30, which she realizes isn’t that late, but it means they are going to be up late. And probably not getting any sleep.

“You can call the team once you get to OPS. And please bring Mr. Beale with you.”

Eric turns at the sound of his name. He reaches for his phone and sends the texts out to the team.

“Yes, Hetty.” Nell slips off Eric’s lap, and tosses him his shirt. “We’ll be in as soon as we can.” The phone drops to the floor.

“I’ll go get coffee while you finish getting ready?” He says. He’s pulling on his shirt and grabbing his shoes, and suddenly, they are in work mode, and everything that had just been happening is gone. It should be just a memory, but his lips are still swollen, she can still feel where his hands had burned into her skin, and when he stands, about to leave, she sees the bruise she left on his neck.

“Wait!” She jumps up, grabbing his hand. She drags him to the bathroom so she can cover the mark, and tells him to blend the makeup while she pulls on her tights and finds her shoes.

And then they are in the car, and she’s skimming the report that Hetty had emailed her, reading it out loud so Eric can hear as they wait at the drive through. They order everyone’s favorite coffee and then a box for later, and Nell’s trying not to think about where her night was going if it wasn’t interrupted.

But she can’t think about that right now. The second Hetty called, they stopped being Eric and Nell, couple, and became Eric and Nell, Tech Operator and Intelligence Analyst, the Wonder Twins of the NCIS Office of Special Projects.

And they stay that way, even when his hand brushes against hers while they’re typing and all she can think about it how his hands felt on her skin. They stay that way even when Deeks makes a comment about the bruise on Eric’s neck, because the lighting in OPS is different than the lighting in her bathroom and sometimes make up fails. 

They stay that way until it’s 4 in the morning, and Nell finds Eric downstairs in the bullpen, staring at the wall as he finishes his third cup of coffee.

The rest of the team is out following leads, so it’s just them. The light is only starting to filter into the building, hitting Eric’s face in a way that makes her heart hurt. She can see the dark circles under his eyes, but when he sees her, his face lights up.

“Hey.” He says. It’s uncharacteristically quiet in the office.

“Hey yourself.” She wants to kiss him. She wants to kiss him like she had in her kitchen, a hello sort of kiss, a kiss that would hold all sorts of possibilities. But instead she pours herself a cup of coffee, and leans against the wall.

“About before, earlier, you know what I was going to say was-”

“I know.” He cuts her off before she can say it.

She narrows her eyes at him. “Did you just Han Solo me?”

“I might have Princess Leia’d you but I’m too tired to actually tell.”

It’s things like that that make her realize she is in love with Eric Beale.

“You don’t want me to say it?” She asks, before she can think about what she’s saying.

Eric swallows and pours himself another cup of coffee. “I do. Just, not here.”

She’s suddenly filled with the urge to kiss him. Nell grabs his hand and pulls him, leading him to a dark corner behind the stairs, before standing on her tip toes and dragging his lips down to hers.

It’s short, much too short for what she wants, but it’s all they have. She pulls back, and there’s confusion and wonder mixed on his face.

“There’s a camera blind spot there. In case of emergencies.” She kisses him one last time before stepping back.

“What was that for?” He’s breathless, and something inside of her leaps at knowing she’s the one who did that to him.

“For later.”

He smiles, really smiles, for the first time in a couple of hours. “Later then.” He taps their coffee cups together and walks backwards away from her, until he trips over his own feet and nearly falls, forcing him to turn around.

He’s an idiot, but he’s her idiot, and it makes her smile, which wasn’t something she thought could happen at 4 am on a Sunday morning.

It’s not at all how Nell saw her weekend, or even her night going. But she has later. They have later. And for the time being, later is all she needs.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So this is very slightly inspire by events that happened in "From Havana With Love." Title from Niall Horan. Thanks for reading!


End file.
